Best Of Wives and Best Of Women
by bibliosaurus-rex
Summary: "This meeting's at dawn," Dawn, dawn. Something about it doesn't sit right, but tiredness clouds my thoughts. I tuck my hands under the warm bedding and roll over. "Well I'm going back to sleep." Eliza's POV- The fateful morning that marked Alexander Hamilton's death; his letter to Eliza; and another letter left on his grave years later. Hamilton/Eliza. (some lyrics)


**This was tough to edit so its a little rough around the edges- my apologies. Please enjoy though!**

-0-

I wake slowly, to a familiar sound, and the still-warm bed empty next to me. Cracking my eyes open, I see stars through the window- the quiet night of Uptown New York City is still and beautiful. And, crouched over his desk, my husband is writing.

He used to do this far more- wake, pace a little, spew thoughts onto a page and come back to bed with me. He never knew I woke every time. I love to watch him thinking, stooped over the desk, hand flying, mind whirling. Oh that brilliant mind; always working, always thinking.

There's something in his stance, in his eyes, in the way the sky peers down tonight. It makes me want to reach out to him. There's a weight to this moment which I don't understand.

"Alexander come back to sleep."

He doesn't look up.

"I have an early meeting out of town."

My eyes droop, lulled by the scratching of his quill pen and the warmth of the sheets.

"It's still dark outside"

"I know, I just need to write something down."

Knowing Alexander, 'something' could be a twenty-page essay. But I want him here, next to me. Essays can wait. But yet he scribbles on. He writes so fast; always working, always thinking.

"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" The words fall out of my drowsy mouth. He smiles back at me for a second.

"Shhh."

I want to roll over, succumb to sleep, wait for him to get back. But there's something heavy in my gut that has me reaching an arm out to him, eyes half closed.

"Come back to bed. That would be enough."

"I'll be back before you know I'm gone"

Of course, this is Alexander Hamilton, the man who is never satisfied. This meeting could sound like nothing to me, but to Alex it could be everything.

But am I not allowed to be selfish? Sleep tugs at me again, and I send out another plea to him.

"Come back to sleep."

"This meeting's at dawn,"

Dawn, dawn. Something about it doesn't sit right, but tiredness clouds my thoughts. I tuck my hands under the warm bedding and roll over.

"Well I'm going back to sleep."

I could have drifted off, but through my dreams I hear Alex come over to my bedside.

"Hey." He says, voice husky. "Best of wives and best of women."

He plants a kiss on my forehead and sweeps out, closing the door quietly behind him.

-0-

 _My dearest, Eliza._

 _I hope with all my heart that you are not reading these words. I hope with all my heart that this meeting has gone well, and that I have returned safely this morning and burnt this letter._

 _But If you are indeed reading these words, I have two things to say to you._

 _The first is that I love you. I know I_ _am_ _was sometimes a bad husband, and sometimes I didn't listen to you when you spoke wisely, but whatever trial I was, my love for you was never in doubt._

 _The second is that you were right. I should have put you first more often, and now, as Death stalks too close, I know I will never have loved you enough. Because you are an amazing wife and truly, through everything I've done, you probably deserved better. You are the most trusting; kindest woman I've ever known. I should've chosen your happiness over mine more often. Perhaps things would have been different._

 _The reason I have written this letter is devastatingly simple. To-day, at dawn, I am to duel my old friend Aaron Burr. If I have not returned to destroy this letter it means I have lost the duel._

 _I cannot say anything more on this matter; for the thought of leaving you alone devastates me. I trust Angelica will be here for you as this unfolds. Send my love to her, and to all our children. They will grow up into fine young persons, as I know they have the best of mothers._

 _My love, take your time. I will see you on the other side._

 _Yours, always;_

 _Alexander._

The paper falls from my hand. Suddenly Angelica is there cradling me, reading the letter herself, rocking me against her. I can feel her sobbing.

"Get dressed." She commands

My head spins. I feel numb and helpless.

"We can ride to the hospital. He may still be alive."

My hands shake as I do up a powder blue dress. We billow out the doorway and into a carriage. It storms to the hospital, but I hear nothing but ringing as they pull me in to see him. My husband, blood-soaked. I rush to his side and take his hand, Angelica holding my shoulders.

"Stay alive." I beg him. There are glassy tears in his eyes. There is too much blood.

I push hair behind his ear and sob into his eyes. Those beautiful, intelligent eyes. Shining like the first day we met. The lamps of the doctor's office replace the lights of the candlelit ball, but it's the same Alexander. Clever and ambitious and hungry for more. The afterlife will have a shock.

He mouths something, but no words come out. There is too much blood. Too much pain here. Oh, I cannot lose another one this way… I can't take it. Heartbreak after heartbreak.

"Just, stay alive, that would be enough." But there's a sadness in his eyes that tells me he knows he can't make it through this one.

He used to tell me that in the eye of a hurricane there is quiet. For just a moment, you see the yellow sky. I believed him; he has seen many hurricanes. A real one when he was young, the War, his education, the endless battles in Congress. But now I am facing a hurricane, and I cannot see the sky. There is no peace as he dies, just a whirling, falling pain. My gut feels a hollow sadness that tells me my dearest, my Alexander is gone. I sob in Angelica's arms as they wheel his body away. We stumble home and I wail in devastation as we walk. I curse Burr, I curse his pride, I curse time… if he only had more time.

And then a silence. An angry, unrelenting silence. My world topples around me. Angelica tries to console me. Burr visits once, but leaves when I refuse to speak a word to him. I hardly speak to anyone, save the children. All I hear is the rushing loss in my ears. It pulls me apart to know that, after everything, he is gone. Its another heartbreak and its breaking me.

I never saw that moment of quiet in the middle of the hurricane that Alex spoke about, but one day I get out the other side. I stop wasting time on tears and morning and silence. I ask myself; what would Alexander do?

So I put myself back in the narrative.

-0-

 _My dearest, Alexander._

 _The Lord, in his kindness, has given me what you always wanted. He has given me more time._

 _You were always obsessed with your legacy. If your work in building America will not prove an excellent legacy, then I am resolved to tell your story. May I show you what I have done?_

 _I have interviewed every soldier who fought by your side. I have documented the Revolution through their eyes. Mulligan, Laffayette, (dare I say Burr also,) and your dear friends Washington and Laurens- with whom you are now re-united- have been glorified by your men's accounts. They seem to adore you, and embellish every aspect of you. Perhaps is all the American public saw you as they do, you would have had a lot better time in Parliament!_

 _To honour your war efforts I have also raised funds for the Washington Monument, as I know George Washington was a dear friend and mentor of yours, and you would like to have seen his legacy flourish also._

 _I've made a start in reading your works- you really do write a lot- and it is now only in studying your texts that I can sympathise with Jefferson when he complained you wrote too much! But what he hated endears me to you, so I press on in my efforts to understand your marvellous brain._

 _Angelica has been a great support to me these past months. You two were always so close; she felt your passing as keenly as I. She has a far quicker wit also, and is invaluable when studying or organizing. In fact, she has been helping me compose some thrilling speeches against slavery; which I will read at the next opportunity. I know it was a matter close to your heart, as it was your good friend John Lauren's dream to abolish it._

 _However, despite the good work me and Angelica continue to do, I still miss you dearly. I cannot wait to see you again. I hope you are happy, wherever you are._

Before I end this letter- for I must do so soon- may I tell you what I'm proudest of? I have established the first private orphanage in New York City. I help to raise hundreds of children  
I get to see them growing up. In their eyes I see you, Alexander, I see you every time.

 _When my time is up, I hope I will have done enough. I hope that someday, in the future, they will tell your story. Perhaps they will share our pain. Perhaps they will be inspired by your dedication and intellect. Alas, you cannot choose who tells your story any more than you can choose who lives and who dies._

 _I will see you on the other side._

 _Yours, always;_

 _Eliza._


End file.
